


Emphasis

by raptatta



Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: M/M, Shameless PWP, who cares about anything else if flynn is bottoming lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 07:15:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1378636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raptatta/pseuds/raptatta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“That’s actually what I came here to talk to you about,” Flynn said. “Well—no, not in that retrospect, but I came here to sort of… well, discuss personal matters with you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Emphasis

**Author's Note:**

> you can never get enough of first strike universes or flynn being a baby ? its been like a year since i even posted anything and i come back with tales goodbye

Long story short, the day started off with Flynn’s arms full of papers and Yuri’s with books. All of them had been notified early, even those who were not usually on duty— that for the entire morning, their obligation lied within the off putting task of rearranging every single criminal record on the _shelf_. Each one, fixed into alphabetical order... something no one had done for years. 

With their captain away, disaster was written all over the idea—but naturally, no one complained, and no one brought it up. On a Sunday morning, _no_ one wanted to work, not even Flynn, who decided that if he could get away with carrying _books_ around and making an _attempt_ , he’d settle for it.

“Where’s Yuri?” It was the first thing he asked when he walked into the main reception room, books in hand, gloves powdered and grey.

Sitting in front of the desk was Chastel, writing down signatures over a long scroll of paper and fitting them between her manuscripts. It appeared that it’d been awhile since anyone had interrupted her, and it wasn’t until he broke the silence that it caught her attention.

“Niren’s room,” Chastel said. She looked up at him in confusion. “Why?” 

“No reason,” Flynn said, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out he was lying. He set down the armful of books beside her desk and clapped his hands together. The records hadn’t been touched for weeks, maybe even months, and they’d been covered in a thick coating of dust. “I need to ask him something.”

“He should be sorting through files,” she said. “I’m surprised you even want to bother with him. It doesn’t seem like something you’d do… well, now, anyway.”

Flynn frowned. “What an inaccurate assumption,” he said. “Is it because we fight a lot?” 

“Well,” Chastel said—and she looked at him in deep thought. “Did I say that?”

“Well, no—“

“Just go,” she said. “He’s probably left already, but you know—you can probably still catch him if you’re quick.”

And—he was. Quick enough to see the door cracked open just a little bit; he approached it without caution, pushing the wood open to let himself in before Yuri, who was coming out at the same time he was coming in, smacked straight into him. Papers fluttered all over the floor and Yuri swore, rubbing his head and looking up abruptly— it was quite exactly the moment where Yuri might’ve punched him in the face, then, but surprisingly, he didn’t.

“What the hell?” he asked in surprise. “You could at least look where you’re going!”

Flynn ushered him into the room. “You’re going to complain about me banging into you?” he asked, completely seriously— most of the pages were neatly tied together with string and stapled with steel needles. The odd one out was an unattached file— but picking that up would take no more than two seconds. “Chastel said you would be here. I was looking for you earlier.”

“Uh huh,” Yuri said, stepping out of his way. Flynn closed the door behind him. “That was nice of her to give me away.”

“You were hiding out in here?” The question came out sounding ridiculous. “What for?”

“Well, reading,” Yuri said. “But initially, yes. Why? You want to join me or something?”

Flynn opened his mouth in consideration. He could either answer that question or ignore it, but he chose to press his lips back together and ignore it because— well, he didn’t really want to deal with sarcasm right now. “No, I’d rather not,” he said. “Can’t you read in your own room?”

“I like the feel of this room,” Yuri said. “It’s nice n’ cozy… sucks that the captain got this nice of a fill when he hardly even uses it.” He bent down to gather all the papers together and back up into the room. He was right: it definitely had a nice, mahogany feel to it, but that was expected— after all, Yuri and him had only just joined just a few short months ago. They didn’t expect diner rooms for dormitories. “There are tons of uses for this all this space.” 

He ran his hand over Niren’s desk, tapping his fingers against it. “He’s got a nice, big area to work on, too.”

Flynn followed his fingers, watching them idly. He was a little glad he had dropped his books off with Chastel before bumping into Yuri; having them on him would no doubt cause an inconvenience. He wondered— hadn’t Yuri already explored the expanse of the room when he wasn’t there? Why did he seem so surprised and intrigued now that he was standing there, making his presence known, his words caught in his throat? Flynn set his jaw stiffly and allowed his eyes to leave the sultry thumbing of Yuri’s fingers against the wood. “Considerably bigger than our space.”

“ _Much_ bigger,” Yuri corrected cockily, and looked at him. 

“That’s actually what I came here to talk to you about,” Flynn said. “Well—no, not in that retrospect, but I came here to sort of… well, discuss personal matters with you.”

While really, there was no beating around it... for the strangest reason, shame seemed to pull at Flynn's threads much harder today, making the whole thing difficult to execute. All he had to do was be honest! But it was proving to be much harder than he initially thought. As soon as Flynn heard that they’d have the entire morning—and, well, part of the afternoon to themselves, he had jumped on it; he hardly even paid it a second thought. He just didn’t know if Yuri had plans or not. Usually, it varied, since Yuri wasn’t typically ever busy, but when he was... he didn’t like to be interrupted.

However, Yuri seemed interested. He raised his eyebrow in Flynn’s direction and appeared amused. “Personal matters… and how does that relate to this room?”

“Well, it didn’t at first,” Flynn said. “But now it does.”

He hated how he was referring to Niren’s desk. Well, the entirety of Niren’s room in general. He was hoping that Yuri would, without a doubt, be lounging in their own room, sleeping away. Perhaps if that was the case, this wouldn’t so embarrassing. But no matter how much Flynn liked to go on and on about how he was the last one to ever have fantasies, they always caught back up to him. He imagined it— waking Yuri up to kisses or words of affection and hopefully earning a bit of a flush out of him. But now... all he saw was Yuri leaning up against their captain’s desk with a growing smirk on his face. A sudden peak in interest.

He swallowed nervously and laughed. “…You get it, don’t you?”

“Not really,” Yuri said, but he said it sarcastically. “You’re blushing, you know.”

Flynn flared slightly. He was already ashamed to begin with, especially after going out of his way to ask where Yuri even was. “Were you just taking your leave? I did bump into you on your way out…”

“I can wait,” Yuri said. “If it’s important, that is.”

This was pretty important. Flynn took a deep breath and, trying hard not to belt out his plan, said it as calmly as he could. “Well… I was just thinking,” he said slowly. “You know as well as I do that I don’t prioritize our relationship over work—“

Yuri frowned at that. “You should try that more,” he said.

“—Which,” Flynn continued incredulously, “Is why I think I’m going to step out of my boundaries for a tiny bit. Maybe even for today, I will, because we’re both alone in our captain’s room and I honestly don’t expect him to be back for a few hours.” He took a breath. “And, if you haven’t noticed by now— his desk is a very inviting place, and our room is too far away, and I’ve been very uncomfortable in my uniform for the entire day and—“

He didn’t notice Yuri staring at him until he looked at him directly. The last part of his sentence was abhorrently true; there was something terrible and awful about admitting things like that, especially when you weren’t used to it. It made it sound almost wrong. But if he thought that was enough to make him shift sideways where he stood, Yuri’s oppressive stare caught him dead in the middle of it, and Flynn relentlessly gazed back at him. “…What are you looking at?”

Yuri narrowed his eyes carefully and slid off the desk. “You, obviously,” he said, but it wasn’t hard to tell that what Flynn had just said was enough to catch his interest. “You’re telling me that you, reserved and modest in every front, are coming to me... while I pretend (he emphasized this) to do my job, insinuating that you want to have sex?”

“Yuri,” Flynn said. “I’m telling you I want to have sex over our captain’s desk and that doesn’t catch your attention at _all_?”

“No, what—“ Yuri glanced at him and gave him the look. It was the look Yuri always gave him when he was joking about something, and Flynn hadn’t caught on— but now, he had, and satisfyingly, it turned into one of generosity as Yuri leaned back on his hands and lowered his eyes. “What, you plan this out or something without telling me?”

Flynn didn’t want to say yes. But he didn’t want to say no, either. “…Maybe?” 

“Maybe,” Yuri said with a long sigh, “You should get over here.”

Wordlessly, he obeyed. Yuri had long since put the papers down by now, extending his arm slightly to grab his wrist when he got close, and then he reeled him in until Flynn had him pressed up against the desk. It wasn’t exactly rough, but it was slow, and Flynn allowed himself the leisure of getting comfortable in Yuri’s space for a moment, his hands balancing beside his hips against the wood. Niren’s desk wasn’t terribly big, but it was sufficient— and he was sure that no matter who was on it, it’d serve its own purpose.

He leaned towards Yuri’s face, close enough to where their noses touched. “You wouldn’t laugh at me if I told you I’ve always wanted to do this?” he asked. “Not on this desk specifically, but—“

“No, I won’t laugh,” Yuri said, sliding his hand up his arm, and he spread his legs slightly to let Flynn come between them. “Actually, I’m not really making any objections. You never take the lead and when you do, it’s—“ he sighed gently when Flynn eased them together, “—usually very good.”

He briefly wondered if he ever sounded nervous when he asked Chastel where Yuri was. Some odd force of energy made him paranoid that perhaps she could see right through him. But there were much more compelling arguments to work with than that, and in the time it could take Flynn to kiss Yuri, he'd probably be able to come up with some. It was always a little awkward at first because usually, they didn’t get to do this often— but it all came naturally once Flynn decided not to dwell on fake fears and focus on what he came here for.

Yuri’s hand slid into his hair and pulled his face closer while his arm snaked around his neck to pull him in. It took about three different angles for them to find the perfect one, but it all paid off once Flynn could cozily slot their mouths together and lean into it. Kissing Yuri really wasn’t all that rare; they did it every day, after all. But kissing him like _this_ was, and the reason why it wasn’t done very often was because, well— they always got carried away.

But now, it was good that they were alone. Not the first place Flynn would’ve chosen, but Niren’s desk was beginning to feel convenient and especially fun to use. Yuri pulled away from him, his face slightly flushed, and Flynn got the idea (he didn’t really agree with it, but…); he spread his hands out behind Yuri’s back and, in one fell swoop, swept all of his papers and books straight onto the floor. 

He’d have to pick them up later, but now, he needed space.

“I’m surprised you’re even going this far,” Yuri said, lying rearward until his back rested against the desk, and he reached up with his hands to slowly, lazily undo his vest. The pale expanse of his neck was exposed and Flynn swallowed, his throat going dry as he waited for Yuri’s hands to get to work on him, too, and he leaned down without resistance, peppering slow, languid kisses all along his collar. 

He made a small noise when Flynn licked a stripe over his Adam’s apple, and reflexively relaxed a moment later. “Aren’t you worried we’ll get caught?” He asked, but there was an evident smile on his face.

“Shouldn’t I be the one saying that?” He asked, shrugging off his own vest when Yuri undid it. “I didn’t take you for one to get worried about that sort of thing.”

“Well, I kind of am,” Yuri said in concern, but it was false worry; a second later, the apprehension had lifted from his voice and he sounded rather… casual. “Do you have a plan for that, too?”

“No.”

“Then—“ Yuri took a deep breath. “ _Why_ here?”

Flynn pulled back and looked down at him. The question came so suddenly that he was almost confused as to how he was supposed to answer it— but it was more because he _was_ sure why, from what Yuri had asked, and it embarrassed him; really, he knew it wouldn’t rouse any negative reactions, but... for awhile, it was him trying to sit tight with a notion that not even he wanted to believe— simply because he didn’t think he had it in him.

The product of _why_ , as he thought of it, was a dream. It was normal to forget about it if you concentrated hard enough— but Flynn couldn’t get this idea out of his mind. This risky dare that he willed himself to go along with, and hoped to even now. It made him flustered, all the thoughts he had while Yuri was asleep by midnight— all the strange wants that confused and mystified him whenever he thought of them.

Flynn hadn’t realized his breath had sped up until he noticed: Yuri was looking at him with a hazy expression, one that had satisfaction written all over it. And then— then his eyes flickered down and a grin split across his face. Flynn stared at him incredulously and asked, “What?”

“No, it’s just…“ Yuri hummed softly to himself and slowly, slowly, swayed his hips forward, pressing against him. “You’re thinking of something, and it’s something hot. I _swear_ I just felt you get hard in like, two seconds.”

Was it really that bad? Instinct told him to pull at the collar of his vest for a moment until he realized he didn’t have it on. He couldn’t answer to that— and in a weak attempt to cover up his embarrassment, decided just to kiss him again, lazily mouthing wet kisses from his jaw to his mouth. Yuri hummed in contentment against him, dragging a hand down his chest, and then he wrapped his legs around his waist, pulled himself forward, and started to undo his belt. Surely, it wasn’t a lie that was said though— every time Flynn thought of the possibility of what could happen, it was a challenge on it's own to try _not_ to. But he didn’t think he had it in him anymore to ignore it.

He couldn’t exactly convince himself that he was far more sexual than Yuri— Yuri, who couldn’t understand dirty jokes for the life of him or, in the rare case, get drunk and vouch to hit on women— no, Yuri was the type of person that had to be slapped in the face with something suggestive to understand it, to have a legitimate reason for getting drunk in the first place.

He kissed down Yuri’s neck and breathed out a sigh of relief when his pants loosened around his hips. But it was short lived once he realized Yuri wasn’t touching him, and Flynn grunted in concern for a moment before pulling back. But he had already been beaten to it.

“ _Why here_ ,” Yuri repeated, licking his lips, and he simply refused to do anything until he got an answer. “What, you hidin’ something from me?”

God bless Yuri’s heart. Flynn bit his tongue. “You’d— seriously, you’d make fun of me for it if I told you; maybe not now— but sometime in the future. You’ll never let it go.”

Yuri raised both his eyebrows. “Uh huh… _I’d_ laugh.”

“It’s not—!“ he paused to find the right choice of words. “It’s not anything having to do with Niren, really. If that’s what you think.”

“I didn’t in the first place—“

Flynn mentally swore. He cut Yuri off and that wasn’t very polite of him, of course, but yet—Yuri stayed relatively quiet and looked at him, waiting, wanting to know just what he was going to say. And Flynn couldn’t exactly hide it from him now, especially after he’d been persistent about it. From where his hands were still spread out behind Yuri’s back, Flynn hung his head and took a small breath, laughing nervously. “I— all right.”

A moment passed. He exhaled shakily. “Yuri,” he said. 

“Flynn,” Yuri said, in the same tone of voice. 

It was difficult! He had to. But he just couldn’t, and it made him feel childish and immature. It was so silly— it was so redundant and so stupid, but he could feel Yuri staring at him, could feel his gaze, and it made Flynn so hot under the collar and— his breath became fast, then, with the suspicion that perhaps Yuri could read his mind. Slowly, he slid him off the desk— Yuri, who was half dressed, and replaced the empty space with himself instead. And then… then, under Yuri’s watch, he leaned back on his hands and tried to look him in the eye.

“I want…“ Flynn swallowed nervously, trying to surpass his uneasy itch, the way Yuri gaped at him now, confused but knowing. His eyes were narrowed, his jaw working as he pressed his teeth together.

“Please—“ his voice shook. “ _Fuck_ me. Any way you want, how long—how hard you want, just—“

“Flynn,“ Yuri started.

“Do it like I never asked,” Flynn said. “Like you could tell I wanted it all this time, and you did too. As if for months all you wanted to do was have me over this desk.”

He took a deep breath. “That’s—that’s what I’m asking.”

A moment of silence passed between them. Yuri’s expression wasn’t— well, it was empty and smooth, and Flynn couldn’t tell what he was thinking just yet. His face had to be aflame right now with embarrassment, just by what he had just said— but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He took small steps; a breath every few seconds, a gradual resistance to do something, to tell Yuri to stop staring at him. To call off the whole idea because he sounded strange... because he wanted to retract his own statement.

But luckily, Yuri responded (in a positive way, no less), and it was with great anxiousness that he didn’t speak, didn’t say a word— but approached him, walking forward until he was leaning over him; his fingers ran over the taut muscles of Flynn’s stomach, feeling him over for the first time in what felt like weeks.

“You should’ve just _asked_ ,” Yuri said, and his voice was husky and deep— clouded with arousal. “I would’ve, especially if you told me like that.”

His eyes followed the movement of his arm and he wrapped his hand Yuri’s wrist, feeling it flex under his touch. 

It was weird, to be in this position. The whole entire time he had been straining uncomfortably underneath a thin layer of fabric. When the rest of his pants were finally parted away, he nearly shuddered, the outline of his cock thick and pressing right against his underwear. Yuri smiled, his fingers pressing over the damp spot in the material, and he let out a shaky breath at the way Flynn bucked his hips against his hand. “Jesus—how desperate are you?” he asked, a little surprised.

“I just…“ Flynn, ashamed, looked away. “I… don’t know. I really wanted this?”

“I can tell,” Yuri said. “You’re pretty obvious.”

He peeled the cloth back and quickly discarded it. Flynn couldn’t help the slight noise he made once Yuri finally wrapped his hand around his cock, stroking him slowly, because it felt too good to be true; it was glorious, a pure pitch of relief, and he leaned his head back against the desk and simply succumbed to it, eagerly rolling his hips forward. It was true: maybe he hadn’t been like this in awhile; maybe he hadn’t been like this at all. But neither of them objected to it, so nothing changed.

Things became a blurry frenzy of close, needy touches. He was scooted farther onto the desk just so Yuri could lean between his legs properly, trying to find a comfortable position (the desk hardly even fit him, anyway), his face flushing a light shade of red as time passed. He wanted to say something, to do something, but every time, Yuri beat him to it; even now, when his hands were brushing against his ribs and up his chest, his other setting to work on pulling his legs over his shoulders. He felt so dirty, like this—but he felt hot under Yuri’s stare and couldn’t ignore it, his cock giving an interested twitch at the relentless sensation that came to him whenever he imagined what was going happen— whenever he felt Yuri press against the back of his thigh and grind against him.

The thought hadn’t crossed his mind until now: what if someone walked in, only to find him (them) like this? The idea of doing this in a public place was a dissatisfying, ugly thing, but for some reason, it intoxicated him, now, knowing that anyone could see them. And he knew Yuri liked it too, exploiting him like this— simultaneously showing himself off in the terms that he was the only one who could do this. He was sure that the twins had a thing for him at some point; his dignified posture, his leadership skills, his strong shoulders and broad back. But Yuri—Yuri was the only one who could touch him like this and look at him like this, spread out underneath him: a mass of thick physique and nonexistent curves, just under the tanned muscles of his stomach, his hips, his arms.

Yuri groaned. His hand disappeared beneath them, wrapping around himself, right at the base. He rocked his hips forward in anticipation, willing him to hurry up. And then he felt fingers firmly grasp his jaw, holding him in place, his hips anchored to the desk as Yuri pressed into him, and Flynn gasped— letting out a shaky exhale when the furniture shoved forward with the force of how hard he was pushed into it, Yuri’s thumb digging into the side of his face as he whispered something— “shit,” maybe, or, “God, _Flynn_.”

He didn’t want to be loud— really, he tried to suppress it, to be as quiet as possible. But it just wasn’t working.

He knew Yuri wasn’t particularly gentle. Even when it was the other way around, Yuri would claw and scratch and groan, bruising his skin with the strength of how hard he held onto him. But now, when it was different, when Yuri was leaning hunched over him, forcing through the burn of his muscles with the stretch of their position alone, he wasn’t any more gentle than he tried to be. 

“You’re good,” Yuri said.

Flynn mumbled something unintelligent.

”Really… really good.”

“Mm…” 

Yuri moaned softly. “Why didn’t we do this— before, again?” 

Flynn shook his head. 

“I don’t know,” he managed.

“Ha- _ah_ …” Yuri sighed deeply, a low rumble in his chest. “You ever imagine yourself like this? Is—is that what it is, that this came to you on a whim, that suddenly you decided that—“ he groaned. “You wanted… this? Is that why you were too embarrassed? Because you honestly didn’t want to admit that—you wanted to spread out underneath me like this, subjected to every possible way I could look at how _well_ you took my dick, or something?”

Flynn looked at him. “Yuri—“ 

“You’re perfect,” Yuri said. He bit his lip. “This… this is _hot_ , wow.”

The praise startled him. Yuri had called him many things before, but certainly not that, and Flynn felt it go straight to his cock and it was wonderful— it was great and he _needed_ this, _now_ , and couldn’t help the satisfaction that weighed down on him once Yuri started to move. It started out torturously slow, but it was only like that until Yuri found a good angle—one enough to force him down and steel his hips into the desk. Their techniques never really changed—usually, Flynn was the one to do this, and he could tell that Yuri had picked up a few tips from him; but now that he was the one experiencing it, it felt very, _very_ different.

They met half way; it was sloppy and definitely messy and Yuri ended up abandoning the idea of kissing just to go for his neck instead, but it heightened the intensity of just what was happening—how whenever Yuri seemed to bite or lick his neck, he made up for it with a slow, deep thrust—and Flynn, desperate in an attempt to keep quiet, buried his face in his shoulder. He kept one hand spread out behind him, the other looped around Yuri’s neck, and they moved together—trying to find a base rhythm to work with.

But one never came— maybe because this was the first time Flynn had ever let himself take the other end. He certainly wasn’t inexperienced—no, even if he hadn’t physically done this before, he had basically taken himself to his own bed more times than he could count, waiting for this moment. It made him flare, his cheeks burning with the memory, but it was lost in translation once Yuri started making his own noises, their hips pressing together firmly every time he eased into him. 

“Yuri,“ Flynn tried to say, attempting to formulate an able sentence, but _God_ how that didn’t work once Yuri forced the side of his face into the desk, holding his head down, his hair falling over his chest once he leaned over him and swiveled his hips forward, and the noise Flynn was trying so hard to keep in just didn’t come out—wouldn’t come out, until Yuri slid back out of him if only to push back in and it burst out of him, his hand reaching up to cover his mouth as keened and _gasped_ — and…

“Fuck,” Yuri said. “Oh _God_ , that’s it—“

He managed to open his eyes—looking at Yuri this time, watching the way his eyebrows, thick and dark, knitted together and fit perfectly with his expression—how his body worked with each breath and each movement. He could no longer work his mouth, his lips parting with every time Yuri thrust into him, each time he felt his nerves light with the sensation of being used—being touched like this. They shifted again, Yuri’s hands hoisting him up to pull him against him, both of Flynn’s arms wrapping around his shoulders this time as he cried out helplessly into his neck, and then Yuri lifted him, his legs dropping back, and they stumbled backwards into Niren’s armrest, the chair shoving back with the sudden weight forced onto it; he felt his forehead drop against Yuri’s shoulder, his body pressing firmly against his stomach, his body easing down slowly onto Yuri’s cock as he groaned into his shoulder.

“I’m—“ Flynn choked on his words. “ _Oh_ —“

Yuri’s finger reached down between them. His breathing was irregular and fast, his mouth littering kisses over his jaw and feverishly over his neck, and he pressed to the spot where their bodies joined, stroking over it. “Keep going, keep going—“

“I’m coming,” Flynn said—gasping as he grabbed the back of the armrest and squeezed the fabric, digging his own fingers into the cushion. “God— _God_ , oh, yes—yes, _yes_ —!“

He dragged it out, Yuri’s body pressing against his as the intensity of his orgasm came over him in surges, and suddenly, everything stopped—they moved slow and languid, rolling together like a wave. His voice stopped working and he stiffened, going still as he gasped and struggled, and Yuri held onto him—stopped him from scrabbling to anything he could find, anything he could grab onto. They sat there for awhile, breathing heavily—and he hadn’t even noticed Yuri come after him until they had gone still for a few seconds, Yuri’s hips trembling against him as he felt nothing but warm, sticky satisfaction.

He leaned his head against Yuri’s shoulder, panting harshly; it was hard, catching his breath. “I’m… I think I’m all right.”

The voice underneath him was weak and quiet. “You’re good?” it asked in confirmation.

”I’m—“ Flynn couldn’t move. It was a complete lie. “I’m not sure.”

“Are you broken?”

“Yes,” Flynn said. “I can’t feel my legs.”

Yuri moved him. Since _he_ had regained feeling of his body, he slowly slid out of him and turned them over, resting Flynn against the chair. He searched for their clothes, slowly and clumsily, and ended up throwing both Flynn’s shirt _and_ pants over (well, his underwear, too, but only a moment later), turned inside out from when they had been taken off. Luckily, he _could_ feel his hands, and he pulled his vest back on and began to do it back up.

Yuri wiggled into his pants. “I’m not going to have to carry you, am I?”

“No,” Flynn said. He felt mildly uncomfortable putting any part of his lower garments on, in full control of the fact that he needed a shower. But he did so with a grimace, trying to ignore the discomfort that came with it, and little by little, did up every clasp and button to make himself look presentable. “I’m fine.”

“Good.” Yuri looked at him, studying him carefully. “You think someone heard us?”

Heard _him_ , or Yuri? Flynn made a sour face and, after a few seconds, nodded. How could they not? Anyone passing in front of Niren’s room had to have heard that, the entire display of it, so it didn’t seem too far off. But what really impressed him was that no one was worried enough to come in and, better yet, witness just what had happened—especially if it was enough to produce those kind of noises out of a person. “If you hadn’t noticed, I didn’t really make an attempt to be quiet.”

Yuri laughed. “We have to fix his desk,” he said.

Papers were scattered all over the floor. Flynn deflated, looked at them in disappointment. He stood up, shakily, his legs wobbling slightly underneath him as he tried to get used to the numb, jelly like feeling, and when he walked past Yuri with full intentions of getting the job done—something stopped him.

He processed his own voice for a moment. “I don’t like you,” he said. “But you can sleep in with me tomorrow. That is, if the captain flexes our schedules.” 

“I’m sure he won’t,” Yuri said, and kissed him on the cheek. Though, it wasn’t until he pushed him towards the desk—but gently, saving Flynn from falling face first into the floor. “But we’ll try.” 

(In the end, all they got was three stacks of paperwork— but at least it involved a desk.)


End file.
